


Then and Now

by Keitmeg



Series: Zosan Package [18]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Ep 878 The World is Stunned - The Fifth Emperor of the Sea Emerges, M/M, Wano Arc (One Piece)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keitmeg/pseuds/Keitmeg
Summary: [Sanji is on the brink here; he’s come from weeks of family drama and separation anxiety, a shrug should not be the only thing he gets for his trouble.]





	Then and Now

 

 

**Then**

If there had been no conviction that spirits exist, Sanji’s apparition at the door of the boys’ dormitory sure changed that. The way he was standing by the door frames in silent darkness, taking in the empty beds with eyes dark and longing made him look like a conjured phantom.

Weeks… it’d been weeks since he’d seen the members of the crew that weren’t on Sunny after their grand escape from Big Mom and all her fleets. It’d been weeks since he’d gotten a chance to blow off steam, holler at that man’s face like it’s no one’s business and then smack their lips together when they aren’t being watched.

He’d just emptied the shower and was back to their dorms to change, but then that was as far as he could go. Staying by the door felt safer, wiser. It kept him from going to Zoro’s bed and lunging on his covers, and it certainly kept him from grabbing on the said covers and scenting them, then allowing his body whatever response it wished to such action.

He had to change, though, and, soon, he realized he was only postponing the inevitable.

It’d been weeks, so there was no other outcome or scenario that he could have gone for. He knew how it was going to end. He knew Zoro’s bed would draw him in like magnet, and taking in the longevity of their separation and the ache gnawing at his heart, Sanji allowed himself to be drawn in.

 

It was faint, the scent of sweat and sun on the covers, but it still was Zoro’s, and that alone was a consolation, which, apparently, Sanji had needed much of lately: From allying with rival pirates, to commingling with talking pets and then being forced into a political marriage that could have enslaved Sanji’s identity. From getting humiliated by the Vinsmokes, to being saved by them and wasn’t that the most clichéd thing that had ever happened to him!

The covers’ texture was soft from disuse; Zoro sleeps like a grizzly but never on his bed. The bed had only been occupied when both Sanji and Zoro felt the need to share body heat for more than its innocent meaning.

Just like that, the yearning was back at full force.

Sanji seated himself, felt his rear sink into the fabric and causing it to dib. The only thing that kept him decent was the small towel around his waist, but that too took a part in tempting him; Sanji couldn’t fight the pull of the bed and all the memories they shared on it, and the temptation of the easy access to what was beneath the towel. He dragged the pillow poised there over to his nose, taking a deep lungful; beyond the smell of weeks of neglect from dust particles, there was the scent of dried sweat and a faint hint of perfume that might had been pungent at some point but had dulled throughout the weeks.

It made him faint, and dizzy. Like his legs weren’t his.

He fanned sideways on the mattress with the pillow tucked against his chest. What was beneath his towel had grown in size, sharing the same fondness with Sanji’s thoughts of Zoro’s battle-roughened hands palming out across the expanse of Sanji’s chest, his characteristically harsh smirk which deepen every time Sanji climaxes on command, and his deep voice growing gravel with want.

Sanji’s hands one hugged the pillow closer so he can muffle any noise should it come out, and the other slid down beneath the towel, cupping the mad erection. He knew, any moment and one of the boys would barge in on him like that, but the heat and the lust that had been building up wouldn’t permit caution.

It had been a while since he paid his body any attention, and, now, he couldn’t put out the flames eating him from within, couldn’t converse beyond the whined name of Zoro and couldn’t see beyond the haze of desire for that barbaric man. It was a punishment, for going to Charlotte’s daughter, a torture but the most beautiful kind.

His vigorous movements on his red, swollen shaft remained relentless until hot cum spilled down his fingers. His lungs had erupted with a whimper but were now gasping after every breath,  and his limbs going lax where they were.

A single decision, he realized coming down from the afterglow, one single decision had managed to break up the crew, cause Pedro’s and other good pirate allies’ death, unleash a mad Sea Emperor on his captain, and perhaps a war on the land they were headed to as well…

Truly, he felt like he was the worst type of men to exist.

 

 

 

 

**Now**

Whatever comes of Luffy, whatever happens to Law and his crew and whatever schemes are being schemed, what matters is this moment, right here, right now, where he is close enough to feel Zoro’s body heat. Sanji will sit and stew with everyone about the safety of their captain and his ally, and the safety of this town, but for now, in this moment, he will make this about him and Zoro.

Sanji didn’t miss the way Zoro flung him a look soon after the crew regrouped in one of those crumbling shacks to discuss their options. Even knew, deep down, that his story has probably made it to Wano despite it being a secluded place. Sanji has, at some point, nurtured his doubts about Zoro knowing bits about his past as a Vinsmoke, and it felt… unsettling.

His eyes, defiant yet doubtful, stare head on into Zoro’s. He might find something he might not like, but, with almost a month of separation, he can hardly resist. He stares, because there’s an urgent need to reacquaint his memory with Zoro’s features and smell, and he stares, in fear of what might Zoro say about him if he does really see him in a new light now.

Sanji came out here at the back of the shack for a smoke break, and had secretly hoped to be left alone. After the reunion, he needed to sort things out, rearrange his thoughts and think up excuses. Not long, and Zoro was trailing him, stealthy, smooth and large with the open kimono draped over his broad shoulders, and Sanji, for all his stubborn monologues, had elated at the company.

“The fuck do you want?”

Zoro is probably too used to him being so defensive like this, and so he only shrugs in reply.

That wasn’t fair.

Sanji is on the brink here; he’s come from weeks of family drama and separation anxiety, a shrug should not be the only thing he gets for his trouble. “What” –he blows a cloud of smoke– “you’re just gonna stand there and look pretty?”

He gets more than a shrug this time; he gets a cross of arms over a marble chest.

Tsking, Sanji pulls out the cigarette from his mouth and bares his teeth at the samurai. “If there’s something you want to say, out with it!” He grouses, “If you want to scold me for fucking up then go ahead, come on, tell me I screwed up, tell me that if it weren’t for me, Pokems wouldn’t have betrayed his team, tell me if it weren’t for me, Pedro wouldn’t have died!” There’s raw distress in his voice, which, then, drops to a husky grumble. “Tell me I’m a screw up, for just being who I am.”

That God damn name!

There’s a pause, silent, pregnant, and unbearably heavy, when Zoro finally moves, his legs step forward, closing the distance between him and Sanji.

The blond man expects a ‘Pedro died, nothing we can do about it. You have to take responsibility for your actions’ which, in all honestly, would have made more sense, but what he gets is different.

“Pedro made his choice,” Zoro’s voice, a deep rumble yet a comfort to Sanji’s ears, “His choice was to die for freedom.”

Before he could stop it, Sanji’s hand that isn’t holding the cigarette clasps Zoro’s collar. He doesn’t go for more, he doesn’t dare to. He isn’t sure why. He feels his skin going prickly, and his heart losing its tempo. He hears his own breaths, falling fast and shallow. He can see his own chest, going up and down like he’s in the middle of a marathon… His hand tightens, the clutch forcing the veins to pop along his wrist; he’s so scared, scared that if he lets go of this man, he will never have this chance to touch him again. “A month” his breath grows even faster, his face contorting like he wants to sob whatever is weighing him down and the anchor Zoro is giving just by standing there is the only thing preventing it. “A fucking month, Zoro…”

Apparently, he doesn’t have to make sense of that because Zoro’s lips are soon crashing on his, body weight slamming him against the wall he’s been leaning on and have only lifted off of to look put-together despite his emotional turmoil.

The touch of those lips against his after all this time is almost painful. He feels the way Zoro’s hand holds his jaw in a vice so tight it will surely bruise, and, he doesn’t know why, but he aches. The way Zoro’s tongue slips into his mouth so easily emphasizes the nature of their relationship, and the way he skillfully encourages an open-mouthed moan from the blond shows him how much he’s longed for this. Which probably explains the ache.

Sanji’s hand drops the cigarette and joins its twin to Zoro’s head, fingertips digging across the scalp, feeling the heat within the fluffy locks and getting a big fucking dredge up of all the times he did it, in the safety of Sunny’s rooms, while being pounded into.

Zoro’s tongue laps over his, and when Sanji swallows, he doesn’t know if it’s his drool or Zoro’s. Either way, it wouldn’t make a difference. This isn’t the first time.

“Zoro, fuck” Sanji manages between prolonged gasps and small moans, “harder”

Zoro’s body weight presses even more on Sanji’s, immobilizing him to the wall. He twists his lips and presses them also in a way that punches the breath out of Sanji’s lungs. He suckles hard on Sanji’s tongue that all the man is left to do is whine helplessly at being ravished so brazenly in the open.

He can’t help it. He needs this. Since Zoro is bad with words, he needs this from Zoro to show him how treasured, missed and wanted he is. Sanji can’t be the only one feeling the anguish he’s been feeling from being separated from Zoro finally reducing to a throbbing ache.

If this goes on, Sanji won’t care if he is taken right here, right now, for everyone to see. Wouldn’t it be great? Zoro has always bragged about wanting to claim Sanji in front spectators so everyone would know to whom he belongs, and Sanji, although secretly finding it endearing, always snapped at him. The truth is, he wants to make Zoro’s fantasy come true; he’d love to show people just to whom Zoro belongs too.

While his jaw is being compressed like a sponge, the side of his hip is being treasured, held gently like a twig ready to snap. Without his consent, Sanji feels himself grinding his on Zoro’s erection, urging him to go for more, to do more, to mess him up, to mate with him like animals. He doubts even that would put out the flames, though.

The hand on his jaw goes up the hair at the back of Sanji’s head, fondling those golden locks and eliciting even more moans from gasping mouth.

“I can take it” Sanji says at last, “hurry” –he gulps harshly– “put it in. I want you inside me.”

Zoro pulls away to watch how Sanji, flushed and unfocused, fumbles with the belt of his Kimono, hands trembling and missing the knot a few times.

Sanji groans, up-and-down movements racking his chest. “It wouldn’t fucking unwrap.”

It all comes to a stop, when her voice is heard just behind the wall keeping them from being seen, it all simply stops, when Toko, who has been napping inside, comes faltering in with tears and snot on her face.

Zoro faces the opposite side to try and keep his dignity intact, while Sanji crouches down, his elbows on his knees.

Toko comes rushing to the closest one, and the easiest to cling to, finding Sanji. She flings herself on his chest, and cries about having seen her father in her sleep, which soon gains her the man’s compassion as his big hand pets the back of her head, his raspy voice hushes her gently and tells her it was just a bad dream.

 

 


End file.
